


Whiskey-Flavored Kisses

by Cant_We_Just_Dance



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Whiskey - Freeform, but it’s totally consensual, dubcon, theyre just drunk, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cant_We_Just_Dance/pseuds/Cant_We_Just_Dance
Summary: Love you, Icarus 💜
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/George Washington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Whiskey-Flavored Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Love you, Icarus 💜

Rationally, Alexander knew where he was, and what he was doing there. However, he was not a rational person, and certainly didn’t feel like being rational at that point in time. 

It was a sunkissed memory. The kind that reminds you of stretching in the late afternoon sunlight; that time of day where it’s just you and that endless warmth streaming through the windows and between the blinds. 

God, how had he been so blind?

The warmth was still there. A presence along his back, wrapping around his waist with heavy arms. His own personal spark of sunshine, and he’d fucked it all up.

In Alexander’s defense, he hadn’t meant to. If anything, he had meant to play it safe. Stay at the office far past a reasonable hour, so that he wouldn’t have to brush against Washington’s shoulder as they stood in the elevator. He wouldn’t have to see him offer a tired smile (and fuck, that smile was more than he’d ever known a fucking smile could be). 

Because Alexander Hamilton was a fucking idiot (a fact he knew quite well, thank you very much), he hadn’t managed to plan quite far enough ahead. 

He’d ended up in Washington’s office, long after the stars had been hung up in the sky. The fluorescent light was low, flickering only when he dared to blink. And the work had been exhausting, and the papers had been endless, and of course he couldn’t just say no when his boss offered him a glass of some fancy whiskey that cost more than everything in Alexander’s apartment multiplied by twelve. 

Alexander had taken a sip. It burned its way down his throat, like a sunspot rising off and striking out down his tongue. The glass had shone, fine crystal, sparking shards of rainbow across his hand. It was then that he’d looked up at Washington, who offered him that damned smile and offered another glass. 

Really, it was his own fault for accepting the offer. 

One drink turned into two. Then three. Then somewhere along the way his work was discarded as he downed a fourth. 

George (when had Mr.Washington become George?) offered that smile again. That damned smile that had caused him so much pain and anguish and late nights in his bed with one hand over his mouth and one shoved down his boxers and-

And it shouldn’t have surprised him, but Alexander could taste the whiskey on George’s lips. It only lasted a second, before George was supposed to push him away. Alexander had dreamt of the courage to do such a thing for so long that he knew exactly how it would play out. 

He would lean forward and kiss George. Fill the kiss with all that longing and need and want he’d felt for so damn long. He would memorize the taste of George’s lips on his, listen to hitch of his breath when he realized what was going on. 

Then George would push him away. George wasn’t George. He was Mr. Washington. Washington, the respected attorney who took on whatever cases he liked, because anyone would kill to have him on their side. Washington, who had mentored an Alexander fresh out of law school without anything more than the dreams in his head.

Washington, who was prideful and loyal and so damned kind. He didn’t have an ounce of impulse in his body. So Alexander knew, beyond reasonable doubt, that Washington would push him away. Pull out from the kiss, and apologize for making Alexander feel pressured into such a thing. He would shuffle his papers, wipe his lips, and move right on along without another word. 

Washington would never want him. 

It shouldn’t have surprised him that while Washington would have held everything back, George was so, so beautifully different. 

Alexander was correct in his assumptions, to a certain degree. The man paused, frozen in shock at the sudden collision of their lips. But he didn’t pull away. 

Instead, he cupped Alexander’s cheek and returned the whiskey-flavored kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Alexander wanted nothing more than to remember everything they did. Every word whispered in confession. Every touch, the way George kissed and touched and still wanted so much more as they sat in the back of the cab. 

He wanted to remember the way they stumbled through the doorway, George pushing him up against the wall and kissing him again. He’d pulled off his shirt to reveal a chest that would make a Greek god weep in jealousy. Alexander had murmured something along those lines, and earned a soft chuckle in return. 

George had carried him up the stairs and thrown him into the bed. Crawled over him and ducked marks into Alexander’s neck while he stripped the man beneath him. He’d slicked his hand and pressed their cocks together, stroking them both with one enormous hand. 

George was patient. Kissed him to swallow the moans, and smirked when Alexander bucked his hips up against the friction. 

Alexander wanted to have a picture of the exact moment George was lost in ecstasy, himself following shortly after. 

But Alexander could barely remember any of that. The most he could remember was the reason behind his splitting headache, and blurred flashes of why exactly he was in George’s bed. 

Washington’s bed. 

The man behind him was stirring, now, no doubt on his way to consciousness. What would he say? Would he hide in the bathroom until Alexander left? Pretend to sleep in order to avoid the awkwardness? Perhaps he would politely ask that Alexander forgot about the whole thing and never even try to so much as-

“Good morning, Alexander,” Washington whispered, cutting off Alexander’s rambled thoughts. “You’re thinking too loud.”

Alexander’s breath caught in his throat so tightly that all he could muster out was a, “Sorry.”

He could feel Washington’s frown against the back of his head. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I should never have acted on my feelings. It’s unprofessional, and it puts you in a terrible position.”

“Feelings?” Alexander managed to choke out, for once in his life at a loss for words. 

“I-I truly am sorry. If you want, I can assign you to another firm, in the city? Henry Knox owes me a favor. Alexander, I swear, I never wanted to hurt you. Never. But it seems I already have…”

Alexander turned, now facing the man in bed beside him. Washington’s eyes were heavy with sleep and… not regret. Remorse? “You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I’m not so foolish as to presume that you would ever truly want something like this,” Washington sighed, pulling his arms away from Alexander like the action pained him. 

Alexander grabbed the man’s hand. 

“I wanted more,” he admitted in a whisper so low he wasn’t even sure if Washington heard him. “I… George, I want so much more. With you.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m a shit liar,” he retorted. “Just… We don’t have to talk, yet, okay? Can we just stay like this? Just for a little while longer?”

Washington paused, staring at him with now-wide eyes. “I.. I didn’t think you’d suggest not talking. That’s unlike you.”

“I know,” he murmured. He pulled himself closer, nuzzling against the warmth, tension in his heart pounding louder than a thousand drums. 

George ran his fingers through Alexander’s hair, and wrapped an arm around him. 

“We can stay like this for a while. Yeah, we can do that. Anything you want, my boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to the fandom in what, a year? Whatever, I stopped counting. Comments are appreciated!


End file.
